Chapter Four: Lacking Understanding

It had been three months since Grant had been Returned. He'd learned a lot in that time, and spent his free time reconnecting with the people he'd lost.

"So, you've made up your mind, then?" Melody wavered a little.

Grant shrugged. "It feels like the right move. The right way to… make a clean start. Maybe do something good."

Melody felt her lower lip tremble. "What about me? I only just got you back."

"Melod-Mom." Grant let out a shaky breath. "Look, there's a lot of ground to cover, with us… I spent a lot of my life in a place where people lived and died with every chance to see their mom through shatterproof glass, or guarded their letters from home with their lives. For all that, I never had letters or visits from anyone. We have a lot to say to each other; and…"

"You think it'll be easier if we say them from a distance for a while?" Melody guessed. "Well… I wish I could say you were wrong."

"If we had gotten in touch, back then? You would have told all your friends that your boy was in jail. At least now, you can tell them I'm off helping people across the world."

Melody chewed her lip a bit. "Well… If we had contacted each other back then, your mom would have been a scared woman living in a rathole apartment under an assumed name; working three jobs just to keep that much. When you get my next letter, I'll be a mom you can be proud of."

He tried to smile for her. "What Paradise Gave Us?"

"Mm." Melody hugged him tightly. "Promise you'll write to me, too?"

~~/*\~~

Rika had read enough about the reunions between long lost relations. Paradise had exposed many long-buried family secrets, and created all sorts of new challenges. Most of the old rifts between families healed quickly, the personal problems outmatched by a world so much bigger than any of them. Some problems were harder to heal. Rika had learned enough to know that such reunions had to be handled with care. Dexter had been ready to faint when she first met him.

So Rika had been careful, meeting her grandfather briefly, letting them both get used to each other. Rika knew there was more to the story than she'd been told. She hadn't even known her 'real' mother existed for most of her life. It was another fact of Paradise. The extended Family Tree was available for viewing to everyone, but every culture had its own rules on the way a family could be formed, or broken. Paradise did too.

This particular 'family time' was spent at a marketplace. Rika had met Dexter and walked with him for a while around the various stalls.

"I like these ornaments." Dexter offered, gesturing at a table with glassware. The ornaments were made of polished glass, somewhere between a spider-web and a many forked tree without leaves. "I have no idea what it's meant to be…"

Rika knew the pattern. "It's what happens when lightning hits sand. You go out to the sand-flats and find a place where lightning has hit the ground; you can dig up a hunk of glass like this."

Dexter shook his head in approval. "Thunderstorms are a lot less frequent than they were back in OS. I wonder where the vendor got so many." He glanced at Rika. "You think Nomi would like one?"

Rika smiled a bit. Nomi had the same 'closed' nature that Dexter did. Rika hadn't spent a lot of time with her 'step-grandmother', but knew Nomi hadn't planned on having a granddaughter. After a thousand years, the only people who hadn't raised a family of their own were the ones that didn't want one. Dexter and Nomi had no children. Not anymore. "You get your lady something pretty." Rika said brightly. "I'm going to get us some drinks."

Dexter smiled after her. Rika had been a comfort. Even after so many years, he'd never really forgiven himself for what happened to his daughter. Rika was her mirror image, but with such a carefree lightness to her. He made his purchase, and waited while the glass statue was wrapped.

Jehovah God, Dexter prayed to himself as he waited. Nomi has noticed the change in me, having something like a family again. She never planned for that. Her history with family is even more bitter and jaded than mine. Thank you for what happiness we've been able to give each other, and I pray that having Rika around won't disrupt that-

Dexter took the wrapped glass statue and turned to look for Rika, when he saw someone else entirely.

Megan.

Their eyes met, from a distance of about ten feet, both of them distracted enough by the tables and wares that they'd all but walked into each other without noticing. They saw each other in the same instant and Dexter froze. So did Megan. He very nearly dropped the wrapped parcel to the ground.

For a moment, it looked like Megan wanted to run away, but she squared her shoulders and stepped up to him. "Hello." She said shortly. "I must admit, this is a surprise. What brings you to my local market? Of all the places in the world you could go?"

Your daughter. He thought, knowing that was going to be the worst thing to say. Any thoughts of cooling the tension between himself and Megan was clearly a pipe dream. She was gripping a freshly purchased loaf of bread so tightly in one hand she'd torn it and not noticed. "It's my local market too." He offered. "I've actually lived in this part of the world for some time."

Her jaw worked. "Really. When did this happen?"

"I… I thought you knew." Dexter said carefully. "When you got in touch, a few months ago…"

"That was a message through the Database. I didn't mail you." Megan said weakly. "Last I heard, you were still in the Michigan Region."

"Last I heard, you were somewhere on the Italian Coast, but that was many years ago. I closed up in Michigan and rebuilt about a hundred miles south of here." Dexter explained, shoulders hunched. "My wife was assigned-"

"Wife." Megan grated. "You're married."

"Going on fifty years now." Dexter nodded. "And no, before you ask: We have no children."

Megan said nothing to that, although her eyes flashed a bit at the reminder.

"Well, no kin that you don't know about already, anyway." Dexter added.

Megan felt a thrill go through her. Does he know about Erica's daughter? Or is it Erica he's talking about?

"Well." She said aloud, unsure of her own voice. "Always nice catching up, Dex." She turned and walked away very quickly.

So quickly that she didn't notice Rika return to her grandfather's side after she had gone. "What was that about?!" She seemed amazed. "I've never seen mom turn that cold that fast."

"You know how it is." Dexter said sadly. "You see someone after a long time, and you sort of revert to how you were with them then, no matter what's happened in between."

Rika chose her next words very carefully. "Y'know, we've been getting to know each other a little. But I think we should talk about some of the things we haven't discussed. I got some of it from my mom, and a little more from you; but nobody tells their kids these things directly."

Dexter nodded. "You know this can't last, right? Now that your mother knows I'm here, it's only a matter of time before she knows we've met. In fact, you should be up front about it."

"Like you were just now, about knowing me?" She shot back.

"I didn't lie to her. All the family I've seen are people she already knows about."

"I haven't lied either, but I think we both know it's not the same thing as being truthful." Rika sighed. "Come on. We can't have this talk out here."

~~/*\~~

Megan had been jittery enough that she was practically bouncing off the walls once she got back to her house. Biggs wasn't home yet, and she was starting to go crazy. So she made a call.

It took a few minutes for the call to connect, and The Holo projected her father into the room, tying up his robe. "Megan?"

"Sorry, dad. I forgot about the time difference to where you are now." Megan slapped her forehead.

"It's alright. Is everything okay?"

Megan bit her lip. "No, I'm sorry. It'll keep till tomorrow."

"Meg, you haven't forgotten the time difference in years. Whatever it is, it clearly has you rattled." Hugh yawned again and settled into his chair, the Holo putting him beside Megan. "Tell me everything."

Taking a shaky breath, Megan told him all about her encounter with Dexter Knowles, and her fears regarding his proximity to her family. "I looked it up. He's telling the truth. His house was starting to wear out from time, so he had the Printers recreate it here after he married."

"Why would he lie about that?" Her father said practically. "Meg, I know you have a history with this guy, but it's not like anyone's in any danger. You've seen the 'police force'." Hugh reminded her. "They haven't been too late to help. Not once, in all this time."

"I'm not worried about Violence. I ran an Orphanage. I know for a fact that the deadliest attacks are the subtle ones."

"God can read hearts, Megan. If he hadn't changed, he wouldn't have lived this long. He can't be harboring some secret life. And if his heart is still messed up, the only person it can hurt is himself; because he's running out of time for that, too."

"For the Final Test." Megan breathed it like a prayer.

Hugh looked at her sideways. "Right now, I'm a bit worried about you too, sweetie. I don't know Dexter Knowles that well, but I know you, and this has been your only raw nerve for five hundred years. The fact that you haven't had to face it like this is… I mean, it's clearly still hurting you. After this long, that's not good. Most people have let go of the hurts; even the serious ones, after so many centuries."

"And the Final Test applies to me too?" Megan guessed.

"Something to think about." Her father nodded. "In the meantime, I can't help but notice that you're talking to me about this, and not your husband. He and his sister are Trib Survivors. They've had to go through this 'testing' before."

Megan bit her lip. "Biggs and I… do not agree, on the subject of Dexter Knowles." She admitted. "I think he's more worried about the Final Test himself."

The sound of a throat clearing made Megan jump; turning back to the door. Biggs was there, hearing the whole conversation. "Dad… Can I call you back?"

Hugh agreed and Megan disconnected, the holo-presence vanishing, leaving her alone with her husband again. "The whole world has spent a thousand years on the idea that people can change." Megan whispered. "But that goes both ways. They can change for bad too. Someone who was violent comes to a world where it's impossible to be violent. Then suddenly it's possible again. Yes, I am worried for my daughter."

"What about me?" Biggs said seriously. "My Prison record was full of violent crime. I've got more blood in my past than Dexter Knowles."

"That's different."

"Because you didn't know any of my Victims?"

"Because you're a Trib Survivor." Megan countered. "You've had your 'new personality' tested. You telling me you weren't tempted to get violent during GT?"

"You know I was."

"And you're here." Megan summed up.

'You telling me that if Brother Knowles makes it through the Final Test, you'll be happy to have him over for Family Dinner?" Biggs challenged pointedly.

Megan had no answer to that.

~~/*\~~

Rachel came hurrying into the conference room; the last to arrive. She wasn't worried about missing the preliminaries, as she knew what the meeting was about. Her friend Ingaret had sent her a copy of the next book that the global congregation would be studying together.

Her husband, as head of the local Expo, had already received an advance copy and read it too. "Listen up, people. We got a copy of this early, because we need to be ready to go when it's officially announced." Nick held up the booklet. "This is our next study publication. It is all about the Final Test, and contains further information on our instructions, citing the second, third and fourth Testaments."

(Author's Note: The one thing I haven't been tempted to invent is quotations from future Bible verses. It's understood that there will be 'new scrolls'; but what they will be is a mystery. The original Bible was made up of songs of praise, personal testimonies, and letters from Elders to Congregations, even internationally. What the next Bible will be made up of could be any form of literature. What we know for sure, is that we get the information we need when we need to know it.)

"The Foundation has special instructions; that come ahead of the regular study schedule." Rachel joined in the briefing. "Apparently the Final Test is resurrecting the concept of 'Sanctuary Cities'. The plans for which have been sent to all department heads. As the Restoration work is finished, our orders are to put this into the Balance Equation and begin stockpiling."

"Also, to begin construction of components. We all know that the Society standardized everything, so what's needed here will be needed across the world." Nick added. "So, everyone take a look. Let's break it down; and start drawing up plans."

Rachel kept reading as the meeting broke up into small groups. Nick watched his wife read, hiding a smile. Rachel's whole demeanor changed when she got a new idea percolating in her head. He'd seen it enough times to know when she was seeing exciting possibilities, or difficult obstacles.

These instructions were different. This new Project had her scared.

~~/*\~~

Rachel and Nick had dedicated much of their lives to their Research Projects. It was how they had met, and fallen in love; and what they both contributed to the world. But it did mean they spent more time together at work than they ever did at home. This was not an unusual situation. Most of the Expo was made up of people who couldn't let go of an idea long enough to eat or sleep; so it was normal to work through lunch.

Rachel's group all grabbed a plate and pushed their tables together to keep working. "Do these numbers seem wrong to anyone else?" Belle asked the table, eyes glued to her Device.

"I'm so glad someone else said it first." Rachel murmured.

Belle nodded. "The Sanctuary designs are fine, if completely artless…"

"To be expected." Rachel nodded. "It's not a hotel, it's a bunker, to wait out… Well, whatever He throws at the world this time." She almost smiled. "And I know that 'form with function' has been the rule on everything we've built since this world began, but the Ark wasn't designed to be a cruise ship." She tapped the blueprints. "You telling me you don't see it?"

"The dimensions? Yeah, I see the Ark shape in the designs." Belle nodded. "But it's way too small."

"There's meant to be more than one. It's not a single-" Rachel trailed off. "Oh. I see what you mean."

"Even with the multiple sites around the world, an 'Ark' the size of these Sanctuaries will never have enough room to hold everyone." Belle scorned. "We've been counting the population numbers for longer than I've been alive. The Foundation has those numbers, demographics; locations. The census is accurate to within ten people. These Sanctuary sites..."

"I know." Rachel said somberly.

"You know Ingaret Godlefe. You should call her." Belle said crisply. "Tell her the numbers are off."

"The numbers are fine, Belle." Rachel said seriously. "They seem off because the Committee is accounting for all the people who won't be there."

Belle stared at her. "Well, that makes no sense at all." She pronounced. "And it's not the only thing that doesn't make sense. Look at these timetables. And the Construction Requirements. The components they're asking for. The materials. Have we even used straight up lumber in the last century?"

"Not for global projects." Rachel agreed. "People still use it for building their own homes sometimes, but Preserver-Tech has more or less eliminated the need."

"Until now, when they're suddenly telling us to uproot forests again." Belle shook her head, eyes still on the page; until she noticed something else and scowled again. "Look at this: Preserver and Printer Construction is prohibited. Is there anyone left who still builds without them? Doesn't make sense."

Rachel was still, the instructions forgotten in her hand as she stared at Belle, not liking what she was seeing.

~~/*\~~

"It's like they're just not getting it." Rachel seemed stunned. "The Foundation is made up of people who see every thought through to every possible variation, and on this one they don't seem to get the obvious conclusion. The Sanctuary Cities are being built around the world, but they're not large enough to take everyone. Take from that the only conclusion that you can."

"It's not the only conclusion." Nick countered. "And I'm a little surprised to hear you talk like that. How many times have we come up with a dozen alternatives to… well, everything? When Tribulation happened, plenty of brothers had to ride it out in a prison cell, or a private home. Not the majority, but enough that the 'everyone' math doesn't work out."

"Except we know it won't be that way." Rachel said quietly. "And nobody under the age of six hundred seems to have a problem with that."

"I guess that's true." Nick admitted.

"I'm a Tribulation Witness." Rachel countered. "I can remember the time when alluding to the end of the Millennium would make people twitch, or at least seem a little nervous."

"I remember when we were working out demographics for the Returning. A pretty large number of the early Returnees were either born in this world, or so young when they died that they couldn't remember the Old Days." Nick reminded her. "You and I know what fear is like. All the Tribulation Survivors keep up the 'survival training'. But remember, I wasn't there for that either. I went from a life of 'knowing' there was no God to watch out for us, to a world where He was giving abundant blessings. Even after eight centuries of study; it's sometimes hard to reconcile the idea that Jehovah was just as present in the Old World as He is here."

"And the idea that He's intending to be more… militant than He has been for the last nine hundred years is even harder to grasp." Rachel put in. "I was there the last time God Judged the whole world."

"I wasn't there." Nick added. "I've seen footage, but… I fought in the Second World War. I've walked through cities that have been all pulled apart, and my memory is better than it's ever been. I can't imagine the whole world being like that. And then seeing something a whole lot bigger happen."

"I can." Rachel said quietly. "And some days, it feels like I'm the only one at the Expo that can. Is a Thousand Years all it takes? After nine hundred years of Paradise, there's more anticipation than concern."

"I have no intention of changing my stance towards God." Nick said simply. "So yes, I am looking forward to the end of this Stage. You've heard some of the Prophetic Passages in the Fourth Testament. Whatever comes next, it'll be as miraculous and unbelievable to us as this world would have been to you a Thousand Years ago."

"Launch Day, if nothing else." Rachel agreed, as her Device chimed. "Oop. Family Dinner. We should get going."

Nick smiled. "I'll get the cheese." He promised and went into the other room, where a dusty bottle was stored properly. "Alec's turn to bring the wine, right?"

"The Ducards have their own vineyard now. I'm amazed they ever let us bring anything at all." Rachel felt a wave of affection for him. He was a relatively new addition to her reunions with the two Tribulation Survivors that she considered her oldest friends. When his own family had come back, they'd expanded the Reunions into full Family Nights, but everyone's family had expanded. The Alman boys were never close with their extended relations; and in a world where everyone's family was alive and well, going back a hundred Generations; the typical Family Reunions had changed shape to be made up of people you considered closer than relatives.

As if to answer her thought, the Auto arrived in their front yard. Rachel climbed in and waved to her husband, the Anti-Grav taking her and Nick up.

An Auto Flight, even an international one, was not a long trip. Rachel often used the time to pray. Jehovah God, my Father Everlasting… Don't let me forget. I've spent a thousand years getting to know these people, and I pray that they all get to fulfill their wonderful dreams of eternal life and infinite wonders. They have eternity in them; and I am terrified of what may happen. After nine hundred years of being alive; I've become rather accustomed to it.

She shivered suddenly. And I'm quite accustomed to the people around me, too. Nick wasn't wrong. I was hedging. It took centuries of patience on his part to convince me not to wait. Please, God. Tell me I made the right choice by not waiting?

~~/*\~~

In a different part of the world, Rika had summoned a similar transport, while Grant was making some small notations on his omnipresent notebook. "One day I'll ask about that notebook." She joshed him. "I'm not sure what you're studying, but it must be something good."

"Why?" Grant asked her lightly. "Why must it be good?"

"Well, what else is there?" Rika gave him a big, guileless smile.

Grant had no answer for that as the Auto arrived, and he came around to sit in the passenger seat. "Listen, if I asked for a favor, would you have to report it to everyone?"

"Report what, exactly?"

"I hear there's a small colony of people who are… in opposition."

"The Undecided? What's the interest there?" Rika asked carefully. "Because, you should know, there's been some newcomers who hoped to exploit the 'malcontents' when they arrived."

"I'm sure. But I'm not looking to exploit." Grant promised. "Something I learned when starting my criminal empire: The rich folks have the keys to the safe; but so do the janitors. You want to know how solid something is, you don't ask the people in charge of it."

Rika's head tilted. "I've only met two people who came into this world as 'career criminals'. One is my dad. The other is you. And my dad is a Tribulation Witness. He left his old ways nine centuries ago. It's… interesting, seeing how you both compare. My dad has a similar perspective on how to do things." She sighed. "There's an Undecided Colony near the Med Sea. I can take you there on the way. But we can't stay long; we're expected for dinner."

~~/*\~~

It was the first place he'd seen with empty, abandoned buildings. The small 'colony' was in an isolated spot, in the shadow of a mountain range. There were trees everywhere, and a river that extended far enough that Grant could tell it was the primary way of getting to this place.

But the place itself was only half the size of the smallest Collective that Grant had seen since his arrival in this world. Maybe smaller. His eyes flicked to his guide. She had a look of outright pity on her face as she looked around. "My great-uncle told me stories of a place like this near California." She said quietly. "It was… bigger."

~~/*\~~

Grant stayed with the Auto, hanging back and observing. In Prison, he was a kingpin; but his first prison term was as a young man, and he knew the rules. You live longer when you're invisible.

Rika, on the other hand, had no hesitation, walking up to the small camp. She wasn't scared of anything. "Hello!"

There were very few people there; and Grant suddenly recognized how much he usually stood out. He was an old man. He felt more healthy and energetic than he could remember, but he still looked old; in sharp contrast to everyone else in the world. Not one of them looked older than thirty, if that. But here, there were people who looked their age. One or two of them made their way to meet Rika. "Food drops aren't for another four days." The woman called to her.

"This isn't a food drop." Rika called back. "My name's Rika."

"Come to see the freakshow?" One of the old men groused at the young woman. "Behold, the house of horrors, where gray hair lurks and…" He trailed off as he saw past Rika to Grant. "Oh, I see. New people, or exiling a malcontent?"

"This is Grant." Rika made introductions. "He's the Last Returnee."

"The last?" The woman repeated. "The Returning is over?"

Grant came up and nodded to them. "I have questions."

"Of course you do." The woman sighed, more bitter than put out. "I'm Ginger. This is my husband, Roy." She sighed. "So. Ask."

Rika could tell she was the odd one out here, and stepped closer to Grant, speaking quietly. "Forget what I said. Take your time, Grant. We can be late for Dinner. Whatever you need to figure out is the more important part; and my family would agree." She headed back to the Auto, leaving them alone.

"So, come for the cautionary tale?" Roy guessed. He gestured at his face. "This is your future if you don't join them."

Grant nodded, looking around. "So this is where they send all the people who don't 'conform'?"

"They didn't send us here." Ginger told him. "Don't let the quiet fool you. When we first came here, the place was a lot bigger. There were dozens of families here."

"Where are they now?" Grant asked.

"Some of them changed their minds and went back, some of them died of old age." Ginger waved at each house in turn. "The kids grew older. Roy and I are the only permanent ones left here."

Roy gestured back at the house. "You can stay for dinner, if you want. There's plenty to go around."

"They leave you food?" Grant was still looking, as if expecting people to be in hiding.

"Only since our farms packed it in." Ginger nodded. "Nobody left to work them. We can only harvest so much ourselves. We're…" She scoffed a bit. "We're getting too old for it."

"How long have you guys been alone out here?"

"We aren't." Roy told him. "Not really. They keep coming back. Some of them are kids. Never seen wrinkles before. We're the handy reminder of what could happen. The Elders keep coming around to try and..." He trailed off. "What are you looking for, Mister? If you're new here, then you can't have made up your mind. If you're the last one, you can't have failed to notice. We've hashed, and rehashed our reasons with our kids, our parents, the Elders, and total strangers… You think you've got something to say we haven't heard?"

"I'm sure I don't." Grant nodded. "But there's… I have a question; and I can't ask anyone who's 'part of the congregation'. I need an outside opinion."

"Ask, and go." Roy said flatly.

Grant knew he was worse than a tourist to these people; and resolved to get out of their space quickly. "If you told people you wanted to go, live in the same places as everyone else; and still not join their faith? Would you be welcome?"

"They've been flat out begging us to come back, but…" Roy sighed. "Seeing your great-grandparents looking like teenagers is ever so slightly demoralizing. It's a lonely life, but it's ours; and that's what matters." He looked hard at Grant. "Right?"

~~/*\~~

Rika was praying silently. Grant came back after a while and slipped into the seat beside her. He said nothing, clearly thinking. Rika keyed the controls and the Auto resumed their trip to Rika's family home.

"Were you looking for… what? An Underground? An organized resistance?" Rika asked after a suitable period of time had passed.

"I was looking for an outside opinion. Something that the world doesn't seem to have." Grant said quietly, still thinking. "Did you see that place? It was meant for way more than those people. The implication is fairly obvious: The people who disagree with the majority are dying out."

"And they weren't that big a percentage to begin with." Rika nodded. "Some people didn't want to embrace the world because it meant changing almost all their thinking. Most people, it was hard to believe, but easy to want. Some people wanted it to go back to the way it was, and no matter that it would also mean going back to the suffering."

"But I'm the Last Returnee." Grant sighed. "Which means all the people who fought the new world have already fought to their last breath."

"Pretty soon, you may be the only one left who isn't a Believer." Rika added. "I've spoken to people from all across the timeline, and they all say the same thing: They all wanted harmony and agreement and peace between all men. But none of them thought they had to be the ones to change." She smiled a bit. "I consider myself very lucky that I was born into a world where God Himself decided what changes were needed to make the world a Paradise, without humans being involved in the decision making process at all." She shrugged. "I mean, who else would you pick to be always right?"

"Put that way, it doesn't sound so crazy." Grant conceded.

Rika finally said what she was thinking. "Do you want to go back?"

"You mean, do I want to reject this world, and live with them?" Grant scoffed. "No. That was never what this was about. In my old life, I had to adapt fast. This was a different kind of test. But you can learn a lot about a society by the way they treat their malcontents, Professor." Grant said seriously. "I know, because I was one myself."

Rika smirked, despite herself. "So was my father."

~~/*\~~

When you lived a thousand years, and started with a shared victory, some traditions between friends were borderline sacred. Alec and Beckah were waiting, down by the olive tree, as Rachel and Nick arrived. Rachel made her way to her oldest friends in the world with a small wheel of aged cheese. "Aged for two hundred years. Bought just for this occasion. I figured the ninth century since A-Day deserved an occasion."

Beckah hugged her automatically. "Where's Nick?"

"Checking in with Hugh." Rachel reported. "Even after joining us for this part so many times; I think Nick likes the idea of not 'intruding'. When this started, it was straight aft-"

"AhAh!" Beckah warned, slicing the cheese for them. "Alec tells this story. It's tradition."

Rachel scoffed. "Yeah, and Nick agrees. I know you guys are happy to have him with us for the wine and cheese party, but he knows it was just us for almost seven hundred years before he and I got married. It's been nine hundred years we've been doing this. Enough combined wine and cheese to open a restaurant."

"Mm." Alec smiled a bit. "Doesn't feel that long."

Sentimental silence. The three of them had met straight after Paradise began, and had almost fallen into the habit of meeting every year to recreate their first meal together. Paradise gave the opportunity for every person to have a dusty wine cellar, or a foodstuff aged and cured for decades; purely to save it for a special occasion. Some people made every meal in that kind of 'gourmet' style.

"I'm ashamed to admit how ignorant I was back then." Alec chuckled. "It was long before I had a vineyard of my own; and I ended up pouring you girls a glass of vinegar each…"

Beckah and Rachel chuckled. There was some variation on this story every year.

"I still kept the bottles though. I happen to still have a bottle of the last Bordeaux ever made before A-Day."

"The pride of Chateau Ducard's collection, I'm sure." Rachel drawled.

Alec chuckled. "I never planned to turn my land allotment into a vineyard. Then Beckah and I married, and my land became 'our land', twice the size; and the soil turned out to be perfect for it…" He smiled a bit. "Every year, Beckah makes the joke about how expensive this would have been for us back in OS." He looked to his wife. "You remember the night I'm talking about?"

Beckah nodded. "Alec was remodeling our house for the fiftieth time, and I told him if he expanded the wine cellar, we could keep fifty years worth of wine, aging up slowly. We could buy a bottle, leave it in the cellar, and drink the oldest instead. Every meal could be gourmet if we cared enough to put the time in."

"I started planting grapes the next day." Alec quipped. "And on that note..." He went over to the olive tree and produced a box; the kind used to transport wine bottles safely. "Two bottles of Chateau Ducard. Made just this year. Alec knows how to keep it stored properly. And the day after the end of the Millennium, Nick will get to launch that Space Mission he's wanted since OS. We know you're going with him; and when you do, this will be a hundred year old Vintage. One bottle for the crew; and one for you and Nick to share alone when you get… wherever you end up going."

Rachel felt a thrill of something akin to horror. "Oh. I honestly just realized. If I go on the mission… And you're right, he's counting down the minutes…"

Beckah nearly toasted. "Raise a glass to us, out there." She said softly.

Rachel teared up. "One century left, and then this Tradition won't… won't really continue after that, will it?"

"You'll be back." Beckah promised. "Or who knows, maybe we'll go out there to join you. Either way…" She blinked back the emotion. "Hey, this reunion missed a lot of years between our third and fourth meeting. That's why the wine had gone bad. We've all been in different countries for most of the millennium; we just got faster ways to come home for Family Dinner."

"Old traditions." Alec nodded. "They become new traditions. Or did you forget that Hugh and Kasumi didn't know any of us until the two hundred year mark, to say nothing of Nick, and Isobel, and Megan, and Biggs?"

Rachel took that in. "Mm." She swallowed the first thing that came to mind. In a hundred years, there will be empty chairs at the Family Dinner table. "We figured out instant communication." She offered. "Nick and I will be here, by Holo; if nothing else."

"And I'm sure you'll have some stories to tell." Beckah said, but Rachel could see she was trying to be very brave about it. "In the meantime, we still have a century of these little parties to look forward to."

"Remember when a century seemed like a long time?" Alec quipped.

"Not really." Rachel admitted.

~~/*\~~

With the cheese eaten, Rachel took the box and it's precious gifts into the house; passing them off to her husband, for him to look after. She helped the rest of the extended family set up the tables for the night. Everyone brought a plate or two with them. Some family reunions in the world covered a dozen generations or more, and the congregations routinely had everyone together for day's outings with each other.

"You don't really need a special occasion to have a hundred people together to celebrate being alive." Hugh commented to Rachel as she commented on how elaborate the collection of foods were. "There was a time when getting one of these plates 'just right' would have taken half the morning. Kasumi could do some of this in her sleep at this point, so when we go 'all out', it just gets better."

Rachel chuckled. "The 'outings' among congregations may have saved lives. I remember a few Returnees who's biggest sticking point was the sudden loss of religious holidays."

"I remember." Hugh nodded with a laugh. He gave her a lazy smile; the kind that came with contentment. Rachel recognized it. It was the same look most people had when they grew older than six or seven hundred years. A bone-deep certainty that it was going to be a good day; and a relaxed night. Rachel also saw the exact moment his face changed as something occurred to him. "Oh, by the way, Megan wanted to talk to you privately about something."

~~/*\~~

Megan pulled Rachel into the study; and they spoke in private. Rachel noted that Hugh's old journals were still on the top shelf, and centuries of bound volumes of handwritten study notebooks were on the shelf below; along with whatever study material they still kept on paper. "I've been looking through the Old Bible." Megan said. "Y'know, the first and second Testaments?"

Rachel blinked. "I haven't looked at those in almost a decade."

Megan nodded. "Most people don't. All the people involved are back now, so if you want to know more, there's plenty of information available that goes beyond the scripture."

Rachel nodded. "What's the point of interest?"

"Solomon. Moses. Judas."

"Interesting combo." Rachel murmured slowly. "Your father gave me the impression you wanted to talk about something else. What's the angle?"

"Their stories scare me half to death." Megan admitted. "They all… They spend their whole stories doing the right thing. In some cases, decades. A lifetime they're faithful men in service to God. And then one day, they just… weren't anymore."

Rachel nodded. "I'm familiar with the stories."

"When I first started studying, that scared me." Megan admitted. "I was scared, because… What was the point, if it all meant nothing? If a person could spend an entire lifetime doing the right thing carefully, and then they mess up; and suddenly their years of devotion mean nothing. A person could lead a nation of slaves to the Promised Land, or be revered as the wisest man alive… and then just not, one day." She ducked her head. "Rachel, I have hundreds of years of doing the right thing behind me. And I'm scared that none of that will mean anything if I do something wrong one day." She looked up a bit. "Maybe one day in particular."

Rachel smiled a bit. "Finally, someone taking things seriously."

"You can probably guess why my father wanted me to put the question to you." Megan summed up.

"Because I'm a Survivor." Rachel nodded. "I wasn't a Sister very long before it all happened. All those years of faith and effort and 'building confidence'? I didn't have them. But I do remember that the Society kept telling us the same thing: 'No Reason To Be Scared'. They kept putting that one to us, over and over. See, the Witnesses back then were afraid, but mostly they were afraid of themselves."

"How so?"

"None of us were perfect. None of us felt like we were free of our sins. And we weren't. The world hammered us on the idea of 'not good enough' and that was the hardest part to live with. We were told it's not about being 'enough', because nobody was. The only thing we were afraid of was that when the moment came, we'd break. So the brothers kept telling us 'don't be afraid' because God will be with His people, and we all went home wondering if letting out a cuss word or giving in to a craving meant we weren't 'His people' anymore." Rachel shook her head. "But it wasn't like that at all."

"What was it like?" Megan almost winced. It was an open secret that the Trib Survivors would never stop answering that question. As part of the family, Megan had heard the story enough times that she never had to ask.

Rachel stirred the tea lightly. "Megan, how many books and movies have been made about the First Testament Heroes?"

"A lot."

"You're looking at the wrong examples. Look at Jonah, Elijah… These guys were broken by their trials. It's not about when you break, it's about when you pull it together. I remember, I wondered about Elijah, or Job, or Lot's Wife."

Megan nodded.

"Lot's Wife is the one that stuck with me, when I was heading for safety on the Big Day." Rachel explained. "She looked back. It wasn't about seeing a once-in-a-lifetime show. It wasn't about mourning her neighbors. The Last Word on that City was that it had to stop, and she disagreed." Rachel looked older for a moment. "I lost loved ones That Day. But even if I wanted to add a few to the 'lifeboat', I knew the ship had to sink. I had made my living, up to that point, seeing all the ways it just couldn't last."

"But you can't say that about this world." Megan put in. "We designed-You designed, as a matter of fact. You and Ingaret and Kevin Bagley were instrumental in laying out this world purely to last forever."

"We did." Rachel nodded. "This is something that even A-Day wasn't. A-Day was about salvaging what was left to be saved; and vindicating things that had been lied about too long. This is a straight up Test. First one that God has set before the whole human race in a Thousand Years."

Megan bit her lip. "I have never been through anything like that before."

"Maybe not, but most people haven't. There were fewer than ten million of us the first time around." Rachel took her hand. "And no matter how the test comes, you do know how to pass it." She blinked. "Or is that not the problem?"

Megan sipped her tea. "I always felt extremely lucky, having you in my family."

"Why, thank you." Rachel blinked. "What are we talking about?"

"You remember when I tried to get the Expo to add DNA to the database?"

"Wasn't popular, as I recall."

"You found another way. You, and Nick… You just made it all work out." Megan sipped her tea almost compulsively. "I have spent almost all my life looking after the kids that history forgot. Some needed a place to stay until we identified their kin; some needed a family to love them after their kin bowed out." She scowled a bit. "Parenthood isn't a talent everyone is blessed with. Back in OS, it was Law that both parent and child just had to 'deal with it'. This is better."

Rachel nodded. "I agree. So why do you look so sick to your stomach?"

"You were there on A-Day. You knew which team was right, and which one was wrong. And the fact that the people with God on their side was a Minority didn't frighten you."

"On the contrary, I was quite nervous. But that's not your point."

"Everyone's on the same side right now." Megan pressed, finally getting to the point. "In another century… I mean, it was prophesied. There's going to be opposition again, and it has to come from somewhere!"

"I know." Rachel nodded.

Silence.

"...that doesn't worry you!?" Megan demanded.

"Worries me more that most people aren't worried about it. If my favorite niece is taking it seriously this early, that bodes well." Rachel commented.

"All those examples you mentioned. Jonah, Elijah… They were good people who stayed faithful after a bad day. But we don't have bad days any more. We don't have bad luck any more. All that's left is bad judgment." Megan said quietly. "Perfection has come on gradually. I don't feel any more perfect now than I did a hundred years ago."

"Neither do I." Her aunt admitted. "You aren't wrong. But for the record, you are not what you were a century before; let alone what you were in OS. You're an adult with centuries of practical experience. You've seen how a hundred different cultures and countries have changed under God's Leadership; your brain and body have limitless energy and recall of a thousand pages of scripture-"

"And nearly ten million people survived the last test with none of that." Megan put in. "In another century, we face the Enemy again. He knows the stakes have risen. He knows that this time he's coming against people who are better equipped to hold out. He was up against a few million imperfect people obsessed with being forgiven for their own sins last time. How is it going to be this time?"

Rachel smiled a bit. "You're worried about how things have changed. I'm worried about how they haven't."

"What do you mean?"

"She means the Tactics haven't changed in seven thousand years." A voice put in. "Which is good, because neither have ours."

Both women looked to see Kit coming in. "Kit!" Rachel smiled at her. "When did you get in?"

"A few minutes ago." Kit and Rachel hugged tightly. "Kasuf is helping Hugh with the oven." She turned and embraced Megan too. "Hey, you. Heard your girl had a Green Letter. Rare gift these days."

"Mm. As best we can figure, the last one." Megan nodded to her sister-in-law. "Rika got her own footnote in the history books."

"And? How's it going?" Kit asked, a little more interested than usual.

"Find out for yourself. Apparently Rika's bringing him along tonight."

Neither woman could account for Kit's sudden reaction to that; but she turned and hurried to find her brother.

~~/*\~~

"I'm not sure it's appropriate to bring him to Family Dinner." Kit said darkly, arms crossed; as Biggs set a fire in the outdoor pizza oven. "That man and you have a history."

"We do." Biggs soothed. "Ancient history, to be more precise. But me, his mother, and my daughter are the only people in the world he knows. I know Grant. He's not going to make a mess of it. He would consider it beneath him to be a poor guest."

Overhead, an Auto was approaching, coming in to land.

Despite what he'd said, Biggs took a deep, shuddering breath. It couldn't be put off anymore. He'd told the others why he was nervous. Everyone took it in stride. Such 'coincidences' weren't uncommon. They weren't even that unusual in their own family. Nobody even considered the idea that Rika had been born to Megan at random.

Even so, Biggs was just a little nervous. He wasn't the same man that had been in Grant's employ; and it had been close to nine hundred years since he'd even considered the old man.

Of course, 'old' may not be the term to use anymore. Biggs reflected as the doors to the Auto opened and his daughter stepped out with Grant, leading the way up the path; mid-conversation. "...coming to the same conclusion. That's why you're studying with me."

"I'm studying with you because I need a lot more information." Grant said matter-of-factly. "And what I've seen says the world has changed, but… People don't change that much, surely? Nine hundred years isn't that long."

"I am always amazed at how people from your era are convinced that evil is a fact of human existence." Rika commented. "It's not. It's the mistake of human nature. One that has been corrected, at last. And I know that, because I've lived my entire life in this world, and I haven't needed to lock my doors, even once; in all that time."

"Professor, that's possibly the most loaded statement you've made yet; and I'll need to know a lot more before I can take that one on faith." Grant said simply.

"Because Power and Evil are the same thing, right?" Biggs put in lightly.

Grant spun towards the table, eyes wide. "Biggs?!"

"Dad?" Rika looked stunned. "You two know each other?"

"DAD?!" Grant blurted, his legendary poker face had vanished again; which made more times in a month than in his entire life put together. "Come to think of it, you never did tell me your surname."

Rika winced out a bit of a smile. "Rika Ryker… sounds like something out of a comic book."

"Blame your mother. She insisted." Biggs drawled.

Grant had shaken off his shock immediately, or at least gotten his poker face back on. "So. You're here too." The memory suddenly hit him. "Of course, that's the reason you quit. You were trying to tell me that you'd gotten religion, and couldn't work for me anymore once you were out."

"Turns out I was just in time, too." Biggs nodded, turning to Rika. "To answer your question, sweetie: I know Grant. Back in OS, I used to work for him, just before becoming a Witness. I tendered my resignation while he was laid up in a Prison Hospital Bed, dying by inches. From old age, of all things."

"You were the last conversation I had with anyone, in fact." Grant said faintly.

Rika stared blankly at her father, trying to process the thought. Such things happened every day. But in this case, Rika wasn't sure who the 'coincidence' was meant for.

Grant was still processing the twist himself. "Your #&^%! daughter is my Welcome Wagon?!"

Biggs reacted to the casual profanity. He hadn't heard such language in many decades; though there was a time he'd said a lot worse and a lot more often. "Rika, can I…"

He wanted to speak to Grant alone. She sent her father a look. Can you handle it?

"My daughter has recently and vividly been reminded that coming face to face with the past unexpectedly can send someone off the rails. Even someone who's lived more than eight hundred years in utopia." Biggs said grandly for Grant's benefit. "Like meeting an old school bully, and forgetting all your accomplishments in between."

"Ha!" Grant scoffed. "You don't want to know what happened when I found my school bullies as a grown man."

"I'm sure I don't." Rika commented blandly, as she made her goodbyes and headed off into the house, unsettled.

Jehovah God, Rika prayed as she went to the kitchen. He's not wrong. Time keeps moving, but relationships between people only evolve when both people are there; and clearly my father knows about Dexter; somehow. I don't know what happens if I keep my mother and my grandfather apart, but I dread to think that the time in between might not make it better.

She came into the kitchen and found almost the entire family clustered around the same window, peering out at their guest with Biggs.

~~/*\~~

Grant shook his head a little as he sat with Biggs. "I can't believe… When I heard what this world was, I wondered about you. A million religions out there, and they were all winding up here. I mean, I guess it makes sense, but I never thought I'd run into you this quickly."

"We would have anyway." Biggs told him. "Something you'll learn about this world, we're being guided in ways you don't expect."

"I thought 'God's Plan' wasn't part of your beliefs."

"Don't mistake 'destiny' with 'direction'. This world has a whole different kind of leader to the one we're used to. It's why a construction site will run short of something just as someone's driving past with a huge surplus; or why someone with a troubling question will randomly meet someone just thinking of the answer." Biggs smiled. "In ways we never expected, this world just… works." He glanced over. "Speaking of, did I hear that you applied for the Service Corps?"

"You heard? I… was put on a waiting list, because I'm not a 'full citizen' yet, or whatever you call it."

Biggs nodded. "First-Timers are assigned to a Mentor. Word would have gotten around. I still have friends there from all my tours."

"You didn't strike as the type to join National Service."

"Public Service. There are no nations anymore." Biggs corrected. "The world tried a few systems to get built. Food and home were guaranteed under scripture; so we couldn't exactly charge for them. There was a time when digging ditches and doing the hard labor jobs were the best paying options available. But we build things to last for centuries now, so that trend faded once everything was built. The old world was always about expansion. This world is about balance."

"So you made it a requirement?" Grant guessed. "Maintenance for the whole world?"

"Volunteer, not requirement. But almost everyone has volunteered. Once a decade everyone spends a month or two in the Service. It's how we keep the world running smoothly. With a rotating schedule, and everyone healthy; there's a workforce of billions. The world has little in the way of taxation, and everyone benefits when the world is maintained properly."

"Time." Grant nodded. "I get it. Back in the old days, everyone sold their time for money. Money was how they met all their needs."

"Time was valuable because we had so little of it." Biggs nodded. "Now we have limitless time; so getting those needs met is not burdensome. So you spend a few weeks working on a farm, or fixing a storm drain, or making a delivery. Hardly excessive demands, given that everyone lives forever." Biggs turned to his former employer. "You figured out the rest yet?"

"That this is really happening? Yeah." Grant nodded. "Can't argue with my own mother on that."

Biggs chuckled. "I'd always wondered how you'd react to a world like this."

Grant was silent for a moment. "I never enjoyed it, y'know. Some in my line of work do. They don't last long. When they realize they can get away with it, some guys get a real thrill out of hurting people. For me, it was just a means to an end." He gestured. "What you just said, about how food and home were given free? Back in our world, they were needs that had to be met or you died, and the people in charge knew it. If you didn't pay, you starved. Or froze. Or thirsted. The Powers That Be found a way to monetize the threat of starvation, and called it 'employment'. They found a way to monetize disease, and sleep, and transport, and time with your kids, and… And they punished you for having these things without paying. We, of all people, know that."

Biggs nodded. "For me, the hardest part to adjust to in this world was the idea that everyone was family." He offered. "My family was small at the time, then suddenly it was everyone left in the whole entire world."

Grant was silent for a long moment. "Biggs, seeing my mom made me believe it was really happening. Last time we spoke, you told me you were joining a cul-a religion that said this world was coming. And you were right. I'll trust your word: What's the catch? Is there a black market? Is there a secret underground? The universe never gives you soup without spitting in it first. What's the catch for this world?"

Biggs almost smirked. "There's the guy who ruled Stone Prison." He grinned. "Working the angles? And before you answer, please remember that my daughter is the person you socialize with most at this point."

"I just want to know if there's an angle to work." Grant countered. "I used to procure some contraband for the Chaplain in our prison. I always charged him double. After all, he clearly wasn't worried about God finding out, but the Church?"

"And you want to know if it's the same thing here." Biggs leaned forward. "Jehovah is just. Not legality; actual justice." He gestured. "Word inside was that you came across the odd Judge who couldn't be bought. What did you do with them?"

"Threaten them. Or their families." Grant said indifferently. "But most of the time you didn't need to."

"Why not?" Biggs asked, knowing the answer.

"Because it was far easier to bribe some clerk in the DA's office." Grant said matter-of-factly. "Judge Holmes hated drug dealers. There was a history in his family, so he'd throw the book at them. Judge Markowitz hated white collar criminals. He'd side with the prosecution on every objection. Judge Teagarden was transparently racist; he'd always-"

"There it is." Biggs had heard enough. "Human Judges all have the same weakness. God can't be swayed. He makes no secret of what His laws are; and everyone, no matter who; gets held to that." He gave Grant a hard look. "And there's the catch. We can't change His mind."

Grant said nothing, working the angles on that. "I can think of a few people who'd never bend. Even for Utopia. Even for eternal life."

"It happens." Biggs admitted with a sigh. "It's a minority, but we all know someone who knows someone."

Grant was silent for a moment. "Crooks on my level? Sometimes they'd flip. They'd turn State's Evidence and rat. It was their retirement plan. They have enough dirt, they walk. A few Feds actually approached me when they found out I was sick. Thought I might want to absolve myself before I faced my Maker." Grant turned back to Biggs. "I said no. There was no deathbed repentance." He pointed back at the house. "Your daughter tells me it's not an assessment of my general character or quality, and I believe her. So the question becomes, why am I here now? Why am I saved for last?"

"A good question." Biggs admitted. "The best answer I can come up with is: 'why not?' As you say, it has nothing to do with your character; or some judgment. All I know is, for some reason, you have your best shot of making it in this world by arriving when and where you did." Biggs nodded. "The people like me, who made it through the first time? We were tested. Everyone who came back since? They will have the same test in another hundred years."

"That… doesn't seem the same at all." Grant shook his head. "How does anyone not believe now?"

"Not about belief. You already believe. It's about who should be running the world. We both knew who was running the country, the State, even the Prison we were in. How much love or respect did we have for those Authorities? We've got six thousand years of Exhibit A, and nine hundred years of the counter-argument. Based on what you've seen in your time here, who should be in charge?"

"How is it a choice?!" Grant demanded. "Choose one way and live, or the other way and die."

Biggs gave him a long look. "You've been giving people that 'deal' all your life. I didn't take it. When I told you I had resigned, I had expected to be found dead in my cell the next morning."

"That was my plan." Grant said quietly. "But apparently I didn't last long enough to give the order."

"Matters of faith means that sometimes you make the choice that doesn't seem obvious." Biggs told him. "I know that, because the first choice I made by my faith could easily have cost my life."

Grant had no answer to that.

~~/*\~~

'Family Dinner' was always a fairly large affair. The more people in attendance, the more food on the table, the more chairs, the wider the variety, and the longer the evening went.

Grant was always included in the conversation, but he had little to say. Nobody made him feel bad about it; but he had no frame of common reference with anyone at the table except Biggs, and that was long out of date. After a while, everyone accepted that Grant felt more comfortable 'observing' than participating. More would come with time.

That didn't stop them from telling him stories, even if he didn't feel the need to respond to them.

"Not long after Kasumi and I married, we took a holiday trip to Italy." Hugh told Grant, as he fired up a large wood-fired oven which dominated one end of the patio. "There was a woman there named Tilly; and she ran a sort of school. A lot of people were coming back without the relevant skills, so there's a lot of places they can learn. Tilly opened her home to people and taught them a little farming, a little cooking…" He pulled back from the oven as a wave of heat rolled out over everyone; the slight chill of the gathering night banished at once.

Kasumi took up the story. "We go back now and then, though we've mastered most of what she teaches." She gestured at the oven. "She's the one that gave us this idea. Her father once spent a week building a wood oven and dining area patio in their own yard, just so that he could have the congregation over for wood-fired pizza."

"Seems… inefficient." Grant commented.

"It is, but that's the point." Rachel put in. "At the Foundation, we're very 'time-efficient' because there's so much to do and so many people waiting for a turn. But most of the world isn't like that, because we all live forever now. What is saving time, when time is all you've got?"

"Nick and Rachel can tell you more about multitasking than anyone else for a thousand miles." Hugh added. "Tilly's villa is at the other end of the spectrum. She's all about taking the slow road."

"It's a meal. How do you take the slow road?" Grant blinked.

"Spend a year growing, harvesting, and bottling all the ingredients first, use no appliances, cook on a wood-fired oven straight out of the Colonial days." Hugh explained, having heard the story before. "You could devote the entire garden to one meal." He smothered a smile. "And it will be delicious."

"How can people get so… invested in a meal?" Grant demanded. "It seems so frivolous, for a bunch of people who talk about 'real life' and not getting distracted from more important things."

"Don't mistake obsession with skill." Nick put in. "Back in OS, there were wine experts who could tell you with a single sip where a particular bottle came from, which region of the vineyard the grapes were picked from; how old the vintage was, down to the year. Everyone I know can do that with something now. Sometimes wine, sometimes food; sometimes music; or history, or math, or design. It's not about wasting time, it's about being experienced enough to fully appreciate the process."

Grant thought about that. "All those wine experts? The rest of the world thought they were smug aristocrats; stuffed full with caviar and expensive vintages while-"

"While other people starved?" Rika finished for him with a dazzling smile. "And if nobody in the world was hungry; and everyone got a chance to enjoy such luxury; is it still frivolous or immoral then?"

Grant shrugged. "Don't know. I've never seen a world where nobody has to go without." He gestured around the beautiful setting. "But to be honest, I don't equate God with variety and luxury. Aren't holy men meant to take vows of poverty?"

"Clergymen were never poor. Not the ones in charge, anyway."

"Another reason not to believe." Grant fired back.

"May I ask a question?" Rika said suddenly. "You said you never believed in God. What about The Devil?"

Grant stared at her.

"I'm quite serious. If God wasn't real, then Heaven wasn't real, neither were angels or demons… If humanity was all you believed in, what did that say about your world?"

"People like me didn't need a Devil. I was perfectly adequate on that score."

"You flatter yourself." Beckah said flatly. "I'm sure you were a very scary criminal, sir. But don't mistake a person who despises laws with something Evil enough to devour the world."

"You think?" Grant had a Cheshire smile. "Then, pardon the phrase, allow me to play 'Devil's Advocate' for a moment. You guys all do your personal study? Let this be the subject of the day: Finish this sentence: 'If This Is Paradise, Then Why…'."

"Why what?" Hugh prompted.

"I'm betting you all have different responses." Grant challenged. "Hey, I don't need to know what they are. I'm the new guy in Paradise. And yes, if God is real, then it stands to reason The Devil is too. But he doesn't frighten me, because I know the Devil's Playbook. I've used it fairly often. He doesn't offer you war, he offers you victory; and then you provide the war all by yourself. And I know that, because it was how I made my living until I got here."

Grant picked up a stray morsel and ate it, but he didn't miss the way nobody said anything for a few minutes.

"We appear to have wandered from the topic." Hugh drawled. "The question was, how can people get so invested in something frivolous? And is it still 'frivolous' if everyone can share?"

Grant nodded. "I can't say yet, but I haven't seen any sign of someone going without any necessity of life since meeting Rika."

"Speaking of starving?" Kasumi nodded to her husband. "Shall we?"

"Indeed." Hugh rose from his seat, and everyone bowed their heads. Grant caught on a moment later and did the same. It was their house; and if they wanted to say grace over a meal; so be it.

~~/*\~~

Grant wasn't sure what he'd expected. The food tables he'd seen around the Dorms and the Centers were laden with a huge array of foods. The wine bottles on this table were dusty, their labels faded; as all the most expensive vintages of the old days were. And yet everyone assembled were quick to describe the ingredients on the table to each other. It took Grant a few minutes to work out why.

"You each brought a bowl?" Grant asked finally.

Rika, sitting beside him, walked him through the bowls on the table like she was giving him a tour of the world. "My uncle Nick? He loves olives. He has his own trees. One of them provided a cutting for the tree in our backyard, but Nick tinkered with grafting, gene-splicing… So, this bowl is straight black olives, that one is a new spice-blend version. Nick brought a bowl just for pizza night." She gestured further up. "Alec and Beckah have family in France; and their own vineyard. They used to host these Dinners more than the rest of us, so they provide the wine. Their personal cellar has enough room that whenever they add a new bottle, they can cycle an old one out. We haven't had a vintage younger than seventy years in a while. The sauce is made from various breeds of tomato that I grew. We made a day of it last year and spent a weekend bottling tomato sauce, reducing it down; flavoring it heavily… The Pizza bases come from my mom and dad."

"Biggs was given this sourdough starter as a gift, and kept it alive for many years; so the flavor is ridiculous." Megan put in.

"The meat and cheese was provided by Grandma Kasumi. They live in an Arcology, which has a bigger 'meat-tank' setup than anyone will ever find in a private home. The flavoring comes from Aunt Isobel. Everyone has a specific bit of land assigned to them. Aunt Izzy swapped her land for seven places just large enough to park a Wagon; all over the earth. She does a lot of trading; and most everyone is willing to part with herbs and spices, given that they can all grow their own."

Grant was in disbelief. From the patio, he could see through the window into the kitchen, where Biggs was tossing pizza dough in the air like something out of a movie; then passing the pizza bases out to Megan, who was cheerfully handing them up and down the table to whoever's plate happened to be empty.

It was more than just the smells, or the taste of fine wine in his mouth. The huge backyard was lit by the cheery glow of the plants along the garden path. It took Grant a while to realize the plants themselves were glowing in the dark. The chill in the night air was cast away by the merry crackle coming from the oven; and there was plenty more to come.

The table broke into smaller conversations here and there, as happened in all gatherings, and Grant found himself drifting back to Biggs, the only other person he knew.

~~/*\~~

Biggs gestured to Grant to follow after the meal finished up, and the two of them went inside. "So, how are you holding up?"

Grant waved a hand back and forth. "Maybe I just don't trust 'joy'." He offered. "One thing I never got into, Biggs. Narcotics. It's not like prison walls could keep any of the more popular vices out. But I never got into the drug trade. It was just too… easy. You take something and feel good. So you take it all the time; to the point where feeling good is all you care about. I can't help but wonder…"

"If Paradise is the same way?" Biggs nodded. "If you think that happiness means we have to be on the verge of bursting into song every second, then you're wrong. If you think it means we have to get everything we could ever ask for at a moment's notice; well, it doesn't. Mindless pleasure without effort? That's…"

Grant said it for him. "A drug high."

Biggs nodded. "People are at their best when they're doing something they care about. Something they're good at. Something that's… fulfilling. Something useful. We both spent most of our OS lives in prison. Did we ever wonder what we added to the world?"

"No." Grant admitted.

Biggs nodded. "I spent centuries hitchhiking my way around the globe, meeting new people, learning interesting stuff; but you know when I stopped moving?"

"I'm betting it was when you first met your wife."

Biggs nodded. "Hundreds of years, and I felt like it was all training for my life with her." He smiled. "Now see the other side. The only thing a junkie fears is missing a hit. Nobody here lives in dread of the day they'll suddenly have their 'happy' taken away. Nobody's worried about losing their parents, or their kids. Nobody's afraid of their health deteriorating, or growing older." Biggs started counting on his fingers. "So, you take fulfillment, you add love; then you subtract fear. What are you left with?"

"Paradise." Grant guessed. "Y'know, those people having pizza outside? That's not a miracle, that's just a good night. I never had that before either." They could both hear people laughing outside, enjoying the night. "Even before I became a criminal, this just wasn't on the cards for me."

"Me either, back when we knew each other." Biggs nodded. "To be honest, I didn't have much of this sort of thing for a long while after Paradise began. Took me a while to find my niche."

"People don't realize what a blessing 'normal' is." Grant murmured.

"I'll go you one better. People from our era had no idea what normal really could have been." Biggs returned. "Imagine a night like this back in OS. Even with the happiest of families, half the people here would be bent over and wrinkled. At least half the conversation would have been about what was wrong with politics, money; a job you don't like; a neighbor you can't stand… We'd have to redo the menu because at least a few of us would have food allergies, or poor health." Biggs gestured at the extended family. "This is the kind of harmony we could have had back in OS if we all agreed to be nice to each other. But everything else..."

Grant let out a breath. "I know."

~~/*\~~

Biggs produced a projector, smaller than any movie projector Grant had ever seen before. The extended family stretched out on blankets and pillows, some on the grass itself as Biggs played movies for them. After the movie was dessert; and after that another movie; but finally, the night was wrapping up. The chill in the air was muted; and it looked like a few of them were content to sleep where they were.

As the night came to a natural ending, Grant noticed that everyone was looking in his direction more and more. He sighed. "Okay, yes. It was a good night."

"You'd be amazed how many people from our era have that as a major handicap when they get here." Biggs pointed out. "They figure if it doesn't involve sex, violence, drugs, booze, and rock'n'roll, then it can't possibly be enjoyable."

"You think I have that problem?" Grant guessed. "Biggs, no matter how much I missed in between, I spent most of my last thirty years in a prison cell. Hedonism isn't something I put a lot of time into."

Alec spoke up. "Grant, I was there when this world began. I've been meeting the newly Returned for almost all my life. I can tell you, there's a difference between knowing the Truth and following it. We know you believe. This is the part where you have to decide something."

Grant took that in. "I'm an old man, by my standards. I know the difference between what matters and what doesn't. And I know better than to think I'm a 'special case' before God. But there's one point about my own status that I don't know how to deal with." He spread his hands wide. "Why am I the last?"

"Someone had to be." Hugh offered. "However you draw up the 'order' there has to be a first one, and a last one."

"Not good enough." Grant said simply. "I never believed in a Creator at all. But if He's running the world now, it means things don't happen randomly. The order of the Returning especially, since it can't really happen without Him. But nonetheless, I am the Last Returnee. It's hard not to think that God wanted me out of the way until He had no choice but to let me in."

"We all have our baggage, Grant. But we put it behind us, for the most part." Alec said patiently. "But to turn this around a little: Can you think of a reason why you shouldn't be here? We know you have a criminal past. So do a great many others."

Grant was silent for a long moment, considering his answer. "Back in OS, I was a criminal. When I started out, I broke the law because it was easier than following them. When I got old, the law actually offended me."

"Unpack that." Rika pushed gently.

"You do something wrong in one place, you get charged. You do it in another country; and it's encouraged." Grant explained. "A law student has to spend seven figures and four years learning every inch of the law, but ignorance of the law is no defense when a regular person gets arrested. When you get arrested, you can go to jail for the crime of not being able to afford a better lawyer; and the prisons were looking to turn a profit of their own, if not ignoring actual violent crimes committed by guards and lawmen, long before the criminals get involved." He shrugged a bit. "And for all that, some of the very worst things done to the world were perfectly legal."

"The Old World was a rotten place." Megan put in. "Nobody alive disputes that."

Grant nodded. "I never had any qualms about breaking the law; because the law was such an unholy joke to me."

"And now?"

"Objectively, if Goodness is running the world, I shouldn't be welcome in it." Grant said simply. "It's one of the ultimate questions, isn't it? Good and Evil? Just knowing that there is, in fact, such a thing as God? It changes everything. For me more than most. So, now there's Utopia? Fine. Eternal life? Fine. No more war or disease or exploitation? I can grant all that as being God's kind of thing…"

"But you don't trust 'the law'." Biggs finished.

"Never have before. Power and evil are the same thing." Grant said to Biggs, almost automatically. "In fact, this was our last conversation, before I died. Anyone who has any level of control over others will use it to exploit or hurt them in some way."

"Does that include God?" Alec asked, genuinely curious.

"How many people did He wipe out?" Grant challenged.

"A lot less than he Returned to life." Alec shot back.

Grant didn't focus on that. "I've been here for months, and nobody's pulled me in front of a huge, white Throne. Whoever's-"

"-actually running the world is just another Church." Half the table chorused.

Grant rolled his eyes. "Alright, I get it."

"There are two ways to look at it." Beckah told him warmly. "Either you needed to be kept out of Paradise for as long as possible, or the ultimate compassionate Authority figures you only need a century to get settled."

Grant was silent for a long moment. "Settled." He said finally. "Why? What happens in a Century?"

Nick winced, and glanced at Rika. She shrugged, and gestured for her uncle to go ahead. "Well, I'm not sure you're 'there' yet in your own studies, but…" He tapped his fingers together and brought up the display across his hand. He turned his palm to show Grant the verse in question. "1st Corinthians 15:28: 'But when all things will have been subjected to him, then the Son himself will also subject himself to the One who subjected all things to him, that God may be all things to everyone'."

"The details of that is something we won't go into now, because you're not there yet, but in a hundred words or less: You were right that there's always been an organization. Sometimes a King, sometimes a Prophet, sometimes a Temple. Jesus Christ is the central figure in the Bible because he's all three; and better at it than any human organization." Alec explained. "A-Day was about putting a stop to a world that was on the brink of self-annihilating because of its opposition to God. It was also about the people who survived making their clear choice. At the end of the Thousand Years, everyone gets to give 'informed consent' on who they want running the place."

Grant went very still. "And what happens after that?"

Nick tapped the verse he'd just read. "Then Jesus 'hands back' the keys to the Kingdom."

"God in charge personally." Rachel added. "A friend of mine works with the teaching committee. Apparently it's going to be the subject of several upcoming conventions."

And Grant started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. It was like he'd found the secret of the universe; and it was the most unlikely thing he could have expected. The cackle went on long enough that everyone gave each other awkward looks, wondering if they should try and stop him.

After a few minutes, Grant rubbed his eyes clear, and smiled at Rika. "Professor, I'm ready now. Whatever else I need to know first, let's get to work on it. I'm ready."

~~/*\~~

"Won't make a mess of things, huh?" Kit commented to her brother as they left the house.

"He's right, though." Biggs countered. "You, me, Beckah, Rachel, and Alec. Half this family was there on A-Day. The other half don't know what we're so worried about. Grant is thrilled to find an authority he can respect."

"The only authority that man ever respected was the point of a gun. I've heard your stories."

"And there were many of them; but remember who you're talking to. Grant was the most feared man there because guys like me were his enforcers. There's guys who like hurting people; and there's guys who are scared to get hurt." He said seriously. "Before you brought me a Bible, I was scared all the time, and I handled it by throwing the first punch. If the first one's hard enough and mean enough; you don't get a second punch coming back your way. You take away the fear, and a career crook can face a Kingpin and resign, knowing it could cost his life. If I could do that because I stopped being scared, what could he do?"

Kit blinked. "I don't know."

"Neither do I. But the whole of human history is built around the fact that when someone as purely good and radiant as an Angel turns bad, he becomes the Devil himself. Maybe the reverse is true; and a bad person can become something amazing." He gestured in Grant's direction. "He asked a loaded question, but it's one we're all going to have to answer very soon. He's younger than we are; and spent his life surviving every knockout punch."

~~/*\~~

With the house silent and the night well along, Megan drew out her study notebook, and wrote a single sentence at the top of a fresh page.

If this is Paradise… Why couldn't Erica stay?

The words unnerved her. Erica had been the first person Megan had called 'mom'; and they were practically the same age; from the perspective of a woman who had lived for centuries. Erica was as damaged as Megan back then, but had plucked her from a borderline-abusive orphanage and given her love. Megan had never been impressed by the food or the clean clothes. For her, the only home she'd cared about was a squat that she and a homeless teenage girl had huddled together in, telling stories and protecting each other from despair.

The prospect of spending eternity with the people she resented had broken Erica. She had crossed the uncrossable line, long before Aging Out as other Undecided usually did. Megan hadn't had even a single lifetime with the first person ever to love her.

Father God, Megan prayed to herself, I have spent five hundred years doing for others what Erica did for me… And yet Erica isn't here to see me follow in her footsteps. Erica was not a good example to follow, except in one area; and I have spent almost my entire life in Paradise trying to be her.

That thought chilled her suddenly.

The Orphanage has only been closed for a few months as the Returning has ended. Megan thought. Mom was right. Erica is as much a factor in my life and choices as she was in OS.